Games and Interference
by Moon Faery
Summary: Draco sees a chance to change the course of his longstanding history with Harry. But since the events of the Yule Ball, someone's been watching, and they're not going to let anything change at all. Sequel to Games and Forfeits. HPDM hints, Movie!Verse.


Games and Interference  
Rating: G  
Series: Harry Potter  
Year: 4th  
Genre: Gen  
Pairings: DM/HP  
Spoilers: GoF  
Warnings: Slash, Veela.  
By Moon Faery

Disclaimer: I don't own. You don't pay. All is good.

Summary: Sequel to Games and Forfeits. The night before the second task of the TriWizard Tournament, Draco sees a chance to change the course of his long-standing history with Harry Potter, and is determined to follow through with it. But since the events of the Yule Ball, someone's been watching, and they're not going to let anything change at all.

Author Notes: Written for Try Wizard Challenge 2005 (for the release of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, in movie format). Part two of the MidGame Trilogy. They all fit loosely together, but don't have to be read as such, though this will make much more sense if you've read Games and Forfeits. Neko is to be blamed for this one. The original (Games in Error) was terrible, and she was kind enough to tell me so and to help me with this one. (issoloved)

"Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore stood in the middle of the Dungeon hall, dressed in the most garish set of robes Draco had ever had the misfortune to see. Just trying to look at the green and pink monstrosity made his eyes hurt. 'Does he dress in the dark?'

The youngest Malfoy slowed, managing to keep a thin veneer of civility pasted on. "Headmaster. What can I help you with?" He smoothed down his robes out of habit, chin raised to meet the old man's eyes.

"Walk with me." A long-fingered hand settled on his shoulder, steering Draco away from the dormitories and deeper into the bowels of the castle. Cold stone echoed their footsteps back at them as they turned to follow a winding staircase down at least three levels.

"I was just on my way to bed, Headmaster. Surely this can wait?"

Dumbledore, tiresome old coot that he was, ignored Draco's protests. The blond would have pulled away, but the hand on his shoulder kept him locked by the Headmaster's side. "Mr. Malfoy, my dear boy, are you planning on attending the Second Task tomorrow?" Draco glared at the old man as he rambled, sneering. "I understand it's to be quite the event among Slytherins. Supporting Cedric Diggory, I believe." Dumbledore finger combed his long silver beard in thought, blue eyes staring into the shadowy corridors around them. "Mr. Krum as well."

"Yes." The boy's stomach gave an unpleasant heave at mention of the task. 'It's just a ruddy lake. Potter will be fine; he only has to deal with the other Champions. And a few hundred grindlylows, a squid and who knows what else...' His own thoughts not reassuring him in the slightest, Draco turned gray eyes back to the Headmaster. "Though I understand a small faction of Slytherins will be supporting Potter, against everything we've done to cure their insanity." He shivered, uniform and robes no match for the damp chill of the submerged part of the castle.

"Hm, yes. I've heard that too." The torches were spaced farther and farther apart the deeper they traveled into the castle. Familiar landmarks by way of suits of armor had vanished, and a faint unease tugged at him. Even the portraits were still-lifes, and no help to anyone trapped and wandering near them. "Tell me, has word filtered down to the student body regarding the clue given the champions?"

The Slytherin didn't even bother to answer aloud, just shaking his head. Dumbledore read the poem, and Draco only raised an eyebrow, certain that he was being given information he wasn't supposed to have and suspicious of the gift. "So you're taking something from each Champion? Something they'll 'sorely miss'?"

"Quite correct, Mr. Malfoy. The most important thing in their lives, as a matter of fact." The old man paused and pushed aside a tapestry, waving Draco through a hidden passage to a cheery, well-lit sitting room. A roaring fire occupied the far wall, stealing the chill from the Dungeon air. In its golden light, even the garish colors of Dumbledore's robes were muted, though not enough. Eyeing the Headmaster, Draco stepped through and took a seat in one of the cushiony armchairs, thin fingers smoothing over worn brocade. A tea service had been set up, next to a chessboard that was paused midgame. Not one for chess, Draco's single glance at it still prompted the second longer look. Both sides had pieces set to be lost and to aid others, but no victory was in sight for either. The message struck him as unsubtle, even for a Gryffindor.

Dumbledore took the seat across from him, watching him over his glasses as he poured tea into plain cups for them both.

Draco picked up one of the teacups. "Why are you telling me this? Potter's not my problem at the moment." He sipped the tea, frowning at the poor quality but still taking another drink. Even next to the fire, the large room and stone leeched away his warmth, so that even a disgusting cup of hot tea was welcome.

"Are you aware that you are one-sixteenth Veela?"

Tea caught in Draco's throat as he choked and coughed. "Who told you?"

Through bleary eyes, he saw the Headmaster smile. "School records are available to every Headmaster of this fine school, and your great-grandfather features prominently in those of his years here."

Draco took a moment to recover his composure, deciding that he didn't like the manipulative geezer one jot. "My lineage has nothing to do with you, Sir."

"Ah, but it has everything to do with Mr. Potter."

At mention of Potter's name, Draco's stomach tried to rebel again. He kept his regurgatory urges away from his expression. "I don't see how." The pasture scene beyond Dumbledore's left ear swayed in a canvas-born breeze. He kept his eyes on it as the silence between then stretched out. When he had himself under control again, he looked back, and the old man nodded.

"Yes, you do." Over the rims of his glasses, Dumbledore's blue eyes hardened into ice chips. "Tomorrow Harry will have the most important thing in his life taken from him, and I won't have you placing their lives in danger by misguided Veela instinct or jealousy. You may have confused young Harry during the ball, but I cannot allow that to carry over into other things."

Memories of the ball, of snow like frozen moonlight and a competition that stole his breath, made uncomfortable things catch in Draco's throat. 'How did he know?' The damned old man still had those all-knowing eyes on him, and Draco couldn't help but snap, "That 'confusion' is between myself and Potter." He caught himself gripping the faded brown of the armchair and relaxed, fighting the urge to storm out. A man like Dumbledore didn't pass out information for nothing. It was only a matter of finding his reason. Still, the ball and Harry's lips were too fresh in Draco's thoughts to push away.

"You are a Veela, Mr. Malfoy, and I know you've Chosen Harry."

"Nonsense." The old man wanted eye-contact, so Draco gave it to him, and watched for whatever clues he let slip. "The last male Veela to Choose a mate was over three hundred years ago. It's a legend."

Dumbledore sat back in his own chair, a soft purple that made his robes look even worse regardless of the favorable light. "It is a fact, and I'm sure you're aware of that. But regardless of Choices, Harry must attend the Task tomorrow with an unclouded mind."

"What? So he can rescue whatever it is?" His throat tightened. 'Potter's probably going to save his broom or some rubbish.' Draco took another long drink of tea to clear his throat. An odd flavor to the drink teased his mind, but he assumed it was the quality. Conjured food, and Draco knew magical from real, never tasted the same.

"Without undue danger, yes." Draco paused to look at him, but the Headmaster waved him on. "Please, finish your tea. I've said what needed saying, and it's late."

'Oh, now he says it's late,' Draco snorted, but drank his cup of too-bitter tea down. For the sake of spiting Dumbledore, he vowed to at least show up and make sure Potter made it through the Task alive. The door was open to fix the mistake Potter had made on the train in first year, and no senile, meddling old fool would stop it from happening. "Thank you for the tea, Professor, but I believe I'll attend tomorrow regardless." He blinked, the late hour sinking into his limbs with unprecedented urgency. It took more energy than Draco cared to think about to push up from the chair without swaying.

The cheer was back in Dumbledore's eyes. "As you will. I felt the request had to be made, though. Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco kept from yawning only by sheer force of will as he nodded and left for the Slytherin dorms. "Goodnight Sir."

Slytherin green curtains blocked the sunlight as Draco struggled to wake up the next morning. Time poured around him in syrupy tendrils, clogging his head with cotton. Hovering over his pillow, a clock buzzed loud enough to wake even the laziest Gryffindor. With a wave of his hand, Draco brought it down to shut it off. 'Why did I have it set..? Merlin's knickers, it's Saturday!' And almost afternoon, according to the clock. It floated back towards the ceiling, and Draco lay back in bed.

From above the Dungeons in the lake, a bone-jarring wail vibrated through the stones down to the dorms. Draco slammed his hands to his ears, the sound so high he was sure his ears were ready to burst. As soon as it started, the noise cut off. "Did someone explode a grindlylow?" No one answered from beyond his curtains, so he answered himself. "Potter must have done something to the squid while... down there... _Merlin_!" Knowledge of the Task rushed back, along with the fact that it was more than half over. He'd be lucky to catch a glimpse of the Gryffindor Champion's drowned corpse as it floated back to the school.

Grimacing at the morbid thought, he threw back his silver coverlet and scrambled into clothes, using every spell handy to speed the process up. Hair, teeth, shower- none of the spells a perfect substitute for time, but time was what he lacked. Even with magical aid, by the time he pounded up the stairs into the courtyard, the hour hand on the great clock tower over Hogwarts had moved on. His unbuttoned robes spread behind him in a breeze of his own making as he scrambled over uneven ground and slipped on still-icy patches of grass. Dignity lay forgotten in the dirt behind him as Draco left Hogwarts proper and approached the docks of the Black Lake. Even as fit as he was, his lungs still burned and his legs ached as he slowed to a trot.

The crowd gathered around the lake was silent and tense as he shoved through, and his heart gave a painful twist. 'Someone's not back yet, or they'd be leaving. Which one? Is it Potter?' If the boy did manage to drown himself over a broom, Draco was going to kill him.

Before he managed to push to the front, the students around him erupted into cheers so loud they blocked out the announcement of what had happened. His heart left his stomach, but Draco kept fighting to get to the front, stumbling when the people around him vanished and he had a clear view of what was happening on the docks.

Weasley and Potter were the first thing he saw. The red-haired bastard was draped over Potter's shoulder, saying something into his ear. Water dripped off both of them, soaking their hair and the blankets wrapped around them as they talked, puddling on the weathered slats under them. A little golden-haired girl sat on Potter's other side, being fussed over and piled with blankets by the French girl from Beauxbatons. Granger had broken free of Krum to check on her friends, also wet.

Draco's knees tried to go out from under hi, but he stayed upright somehow. 'What you'll sorely miss...' Dumbledore's words echoed hollowly in Draco's head, weakening his knees. 'The most important thing in his life.' Anger and jealousy, a scalding hot pain that rose in his throat, lent strength to him as he turned. He tipped his head to watch the low clouds scud overhead, as if they could stop the scene behind him from unfolding.

He'd show Potter and Weasley important, Dumbledore be damned.


End file.
